


Changing Of The Guard

by Wind_Writes



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gawain Needs Some God Damn Help, He Needs A Friend To Help Deal With All The Shit, Light Angst, Romance, The Poor Man Looks Chronically Exhausted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25834567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Writes/pseuds/Wind_Writes
Summary: Skilled with a sword, you had stood beside Gawain since the Fey resistance began, but there comes a time when feelings muddy the water and rolls start to change.
Relationships: Gawain l The Green Knight (Cursed) / Reader, Gawain | The Green Knight (Cursed)/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 8





	Changing Of The Guard

The smoke of campfires lingered as the rays of sun danced through the treetops, the spots of light dancing their way across the ground in the wind. Birds darted between branches and you watched as a chipmunk scurried along the base of a tree, his nose twitching with excitement at the scent of a morning meal cooking a few fires over. You knew the peacefulness would not last, the clanging of weapons and chatter of war would soon break through the quiet, but for just a moment you let yourself take in the scene around you.

Even with the ever-present fear of the Red Paladins finding the resistance’s hideout lingering in the back of everyone’s mind, there was a calm that settled over the camp. The laughter from the children carried like a song from where they were sequestered away in the cave, while groups of men and women gathered around fires just outside, talked fondly of a better time.

Despite a tempestuous history between the Fey clans, most had been able to put their differences aside and come together with a common goal, survival in the wake of genocide. Losses to each clan had been great, most faced with the decision to run or to stay and watch as their families and friends were lost to the blades of the church, likely to see the same fate if they tried to save them. War was an ugly business, not something the majority of Fey knew anything about, and yet now they found themselves shoved on the front lines of it.

With careful precision, you ran a stone along the sharp end of your blade, the task soothing as you tried to block the images of battle from your mind; war was nothing new to you, but that didn’t mean you found it easy to deal with. The night had been a long one, images of fleeing Fey and the destruction of villages had plagued you in sleep; the smell of death in the air and the taste of iron on your tongue had finally woke you from your fitful night. Despite your history and experience on the battlefield, you had yet to succeed in sealing yourself against the carnage. Try as you might, certain scenes had a way of creeping back to the front of your mind.

Movement to your left pulled your attention from your swirling thoughts, eyes darting to the approaching figure for a moment of recognition before focusing back on your task.

Gawain hovered behind you for a moment, watching intently as you worked a steady hand along your sword. You had been nowhere in sight when he woke this morning and no one had seen hide nor hair of you since last night.

With all that had happened over the last few days, between the roadblocks and killings of traveling Fey, Gawain had half expected to find you half dead on the trail somewhere. Relieved to see you in one piece, though looking a little tired around the eyes, he settled beside you on the log. “I was wondering where you had wandered off too.”

“If it isn’t the Fey’s saving grace,” you replied, ignoring his less than subtle attempt at asking about your whereabouts earlier in the day as you continued to focus on the stone in your hand. You knew he didn’t appreciate waking up to find you gone but he was also a smart man and understood to leave it well enough alone until you were ready to come to him.

A low growl vibrated in his chest, annoyance flashing in his green eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

Glancing up from your work, you gave him an innocent smile. “Do what?”

“Call me that,” Gawain muttered.

Nimue was the Fey’s saving grace now. She controlled the sword and it would be she who led them out of these dark times.

Gawain was a warrior first and foremost. He had embraced his role as the Green Knight from the beginning, but the weight of the responsibilities that went along with that wore heavy on him. He found himself leaning on you more and more as the situation became more dire for the Fey, not just as a warrior, but as a friend and advisor. Your level headedness and practicality were what he sought after going the rounds with the clans; someone to hear his frustrations when all else failed and watch his back when everyone was threatening to turn against him. You were the solid foundation he needed to lead the Fey against the enemy and without your companionship and strength, Gawain knew the resistance would have collapsed in on itself ages ago.

“Would you prefer fearless protector?” You asked, lips quirking at the corners with humor as you set your sword to the side and gave your full attention to the man beside you.

Gawain snorted; though your attempt at humor was appreciated, the smile didn’t quite meet your eyes. There was no hiding your exhaustion, it was written all over your face. Hollow eyed and a little pale with bags beneath your eye, he was sure he’d seen you looking better coming out of battle than you did right now.

“You look like hell,” he pointed out, a shadow of concern filling his gaze.

Feigning insult, you swept at the dust that clung to your shirt and ran a hand through your hair, tracking fingers through the knots. “Sleeping in a cave for months on end has a tendency to do that to a person.”

“This looks like a little more than sleeping arrangements,” he argued. Cupping your chin, Gawain ghosted a thumb over the discoloration beneath your eyes, as if to make his point. 

You’d been restless most of the night, tossing and turning in your sleep as incoherent mumbles passed your lips. He had gathered you close at one point, in an attempt to calm whatever plagued your mind, but the effort had been futile when he’d found you gone before dawn.

Touched by his concern, you offered him a sad smile but pulled your chin from his grasp. There would be plenty of time down the road to talk about trivial things such as nightmares; the presence of the Wolf Blood Witch and what to do about her sword was the most pressing matter at hand and Gawain hanging around camp meant he hadn’t gotten what he had hoped.

“I take it the girl had her own plans for the sword,” you ventured, the change of topic a subtle as a rock to the face.

Gawain sighed in defeat, his gaze dropping from you to stare the scuffs on his boots. “She rode off with Kaze and Morgana in search of Merlin.”

“And you weren’t invited,” you said, matter-of-factly.

Gawain watched you from the corner of his eye, irritation dripping from every word. “It would seem not.”

A faint chuckle passed your lips; you couldn’t blame Nimue for choosing Kaze over Gawain or the human; you would have probably done the same thing had you been in her shoes. Though you had never met Morgana, you knew of the work she had done with smuggling the Fey to safety, so in your mind, she appeared to be an equally smart choice. There was no doubt both men who were forced to stay behind had taken quite a hit to the ego and you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your lips.

Something else hung in the air around Gawain that made your smile falter, a deeper frustration than a bruised ego. The set of his shoulders, the tension in his face, it was a look you rarely saw outside the battlefield. This wasn’t just about Nimue and her need to find Merlin, this was about the future he wanted for the Fey that remained.

“That isn’t the only thing that is eating at you.”

Gawain continued to scowl down at his boots, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he ground his back molars before he finally spoke. “That sword could be the key to saving our people. There is no reason for it to go to Merlin.”

It was no secret there was no love lost between the Fey and the wizard, he’d done nothing to persuade Uther to save you from the church nor had he gone out on his own to save you himself. Rumors were floating about that the once powerful magician had lost his magic and had been reduced to a drunken pawn in the employ of a half-witted king.

Though you understood the frustrations of your fellow Fey, you couldn’t find it in you to completely write off the wizard. Had he done nothing to help in your current fight, sure, but maybe Nimue was the piece of the puzzle needed to change the hand that the wizard held.

“Maybe Merlin knows something that we don’t,” you suggested.

Gawain’s head snapped up immediately, his features darkening at the inference that the wizard was working on behalf of the Fey. “Merlin has done nothing to help us thus far, why would his control over the sword change that.”

Sensing his frustration growing, you raised your hands up in surrender. “It was just a thought. Sorry I said anything.”

Magician or useless drunk, either way, your opinions on Merlin were not strong enough to argue about it with Gawain. 

A sudden hush settled amongst the Fey that were gathered around the cave opening that set your senses on alert; glancing around camp, you watched as the other Fey whispered and pointed, your gaze finally catching sight of the reason. Nimue’s companion had ventured from whatever place he had taken refuge in, the young man’s dark eyes holding yours for a second before jumping to Gawain and then turning back in the direction he’d come from.

You felt for the stranger, really. He’d been left in a camp with Fey who wanted nothing to do with him while the woman that brought him there was gallivanting off to parts unknown in search of a wizard that could have darker intentions at heart.

“You’re not the only one she ignored. Seems she left the human behind too,” you pointed out, gesturing to the man when Gawain’s brows furrowed in confusion.

Following your line of sight, Gawain grimaced when he caught sight of Arthur’s retreating form. “I don’t trust him.”

Distrust of strangers seemed to be normal operating procedure for Gawain, and while you appreciated his caution around most, you would venture that the young mercenary was no worry to the rebellion. “He isn’t a threat to us.”

“How do you know,” he countered, skeptical of your opinion of the man. Gawain may trust you wholeheartedly in almost all aspects of life, but when it came to the human, he was inclined to go with his gut.

It took great self-control not to roll your eyes. “Nimue wouldn’t have brought him with her if he was.”

Gawain rolled his instead. “I don’t believe she is thinking clearly.”

“You’re just saying that because she’s got a mind of her own,” you teased.

Unwilling to rise to the bait, a grunt was all that Gawain could muster. In his mind, Nimue was still the innocent little girl he’d known all those years ago and he couldn’t bring himself to see her, or the decisions that she made, as anything but that.

“She’s a grown woman, Gawain. The child you left behind is long gone.” A soft smile graced your lips as he let out a sigh of acknowledgment. It was a fact that he would have to come to terms with and it was best it was sooner rather than later. “Nimue has her own story to write and it isn’t our place to dictate how it’s written.”

A bitter chuckle rumbled through him, of course you would offer up sound reasoning and make him feel like a fool for trying to ignore what was right in front of him. Attention turning upward, unable to look at you, Gawain studied the canopy above. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

With his begrudged acceptance of Nimue’s choices, you felt it was best to change his focus to things that still needed his attention. As much as you hated to burden him with more problems, the looming threat of the church’s growing force was something that needed to be dealt with. “I think you’ve got enough going on here to worry about.”

Tension began to creep its way along Gawain’s spine, the reality of dealing with Father Carden and his murderous group of monks coming back to the forefront of the knight’s concern. He had allowed himself to get caught up in the myth and mystery of the sword that Nimue had wielded, but it was time that his focus came back to what was most important, his people. 

Dragging his attention back down, Gawain gave a reluctant sigh. “The Red Paladin.”

Lips set in a grim line, you nodded. “We’re running out of supplies.”

Between the closures of roads and the patrols on the few that remained opened, the Red Paladin had successfully shut off all your supply lines and the situation was becoming more dire by the day. 

Running a hand through his hair, Gawain weighed his options. They could try to get out, reestablish camp in another location, but the risk was high and the casualties could be great. For every capable warrior he had at his disposal, he had twice as many that were incapable of wielding more than a butcher's knife, let alone go up against those who knew how to fight. Retreat could only be used as a last stitch effort. 

Though he didn’t like the odds, there was only one other option for him to consider. Rising to his feet, Gawain scanned the groups of lingering Fey, a look of determination set across his features. “Perhaps it is time we bring the fight to them.”

“He’ll be waiting for you,” you said, reaching for your sword and rising to stand beside the knight.

The Fey and the Red Paladin had been stuck in a continuous game of cat and mouse since Father Carden had headed up this holy crusade. The Fey’s Green Knight against the Red Paladin’s Weeping Monk had, thus far, kept the playing field even, but the tides were beginning to turn and the Monk was starting to gain the upper hand. The price on Gawain’s head was high and leaving the relative safety of camp could mean certain death for him. 

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take.” Eyes darting to you, Gawain’s brows furrowed. “What are you doing.”

Securing the scabbard at your side, you gave Gawain an even look. “You didn’t think I’d let you go off on your own, did you?”

“I had no intentions on going off on my own,” green gaze watching you for a moment, he weighed his words carefully as he spoke, “but you are not coming with.”

Your irritation was immediate. “I’m sorry, what?”

Gawain winced as your voice echoed around camp, the tone drawing the attention of the lingering Fey. He knew the second he’d uttered those words your hackles were going to be up; you tolerated being excluded from meetings and battle plans, accepted taking whatever place in the field the clan leaders deemed fit, but to keep you off the front lines altogether was something he knew was bound to start an argument.

Not thrilled by the idea of having a public argument, Gawain dragged you away from the cave entrance and out of earshot of the others. 

“I don’t want you on the front line,” he ground out, letting a huff of frustration out as you tugged free of his hold.

“Since when,” you argued, voice trembling with temper.

The sound of blood rushing echoed in your ears as anger began to fog your mind. You had walked into battle beside him since the beginning and now, to be told you weren’t welcome at the front, was a blow you were not going to take lying down.

“Since you became more than just a fighter to me!” Gawain shouted; his outburst surprised both of you.

Eyes alight with ire, you staggered back almost as if Gawain had slapped you, the meaning of his words ringing clear as day. He was more than happy to have you as a warrior, standing beside him and fighting the good fight up until his feelings began to stir and you were not just a woman with a sword but also one that warmed his bed.

“I am not some fragile maiden, Gawain,” you snapped, arms crossed defensively across your chest.

In the back of his mind, Gawain knew that rising to your anger was only going to make the situation worse, but frustration and stress overrode any logical thought and the words began to tumble out before he was smart enough to stop them.

“Don’t worry, I never thought you were.” He bit back, regret immediately settling in his stomach.

Your eyes narrowed, blood humming with temper as the two of you continued to square off. Your fingers itched to grab the hilt of your sword; it would serve him right to have to defend himself against the woman he wanted to keep back for her own protection. It would be him that would need the protection.

“I will not just obediently stand around like some forlorn housewife and wait for you to return,” the image your words painted made your blood run cold. You would never let yourself be so weak.

The look on your face gave Gawain pause. Behind the anger and irritation in your eyes, there was a hurt that you didn’t want him to see. In his attempt to try and protect the woman he cared for, he’d inadvertently sidelined the reason he fell for you in the first place.

Hands raised in defeat, Gawain softened towards you. “I never expected you to.”

“Don’t patronize me,” you sneered. Continuing as if he hadn’t spoken, you advanced toward him and landed a few well aimed jabs with your fingers at his shoulder, a mild satisfaction when the knight winced. “I’ve been wielding a sword just as long as you have and am far more useful in battle than half the boys you’re thinking of taking with you.”

“Which is why I need you here,” he spoke softly.

Gathering your wrists in his hands, Gawain pulled you close and waited a moment as his words began to sink in. He watched as the haze of anger slowly cleared and was replaced with confusion, your gaze eventually settling on his waiting for an explanation. “If something happens to us and the Paladin get through, I need someone I trust to get everyone to safety.”

Gawain’s sudden change in tactic halted all momentum you’d built up, unsure of how to continue. You knew how to handle the angry words and argumentative tone, you enjoyed the bickering and testing of wits; this softer, more reasonable approach left you standing like a fool, unable to counter.

With your anger at a stand still and uncertain of the motive behind Gawain’s reasoning, you simply stared at the dark haired knight. Was your presence in camp truly a strategic move for the safety of others or was it simply Gawain’s attempt at pacifying you? His need to protect you from harm had opened a door neither of you had been prepared for and now you found yourself standing on uneven ground, unsure of your next move.

“And what about you,” you finally asked, “who is going to watch your back?”

Releasing his hold, confident the worst of your rage had passed, Gawain gave you a roguish grin. “Don’t worry about me.”

You couldn’t help but snort. Gawain was a skilled fighter, there was no question of that, but with Kaze gone and his sudden need to have you stay at camp, there would be no one to watch his back if the group found themselves in a dire situation. His best defense was going to be the human he didn’t trust and you weren’t sure if that was a pill Gawain would be willing to swallow.

“I need you to do this for me,” he almost begged, green eyes pleading for cooperation. “Please.”

Staying at camp while others were out putting their lives on the line went against everything you had ever known, but something in Gawain’s eyes made you falter. No one had ever looked at you the way he was right at that moment, emotions laid bare at your feet, the affection and care he felt for you unquestionable.

“Don’t underestimate them,” you finally relented.

Gawain sighed with relief, pleased that you were going to give him this small victory. “We’re ready.”

He knew that this was not the end of the discussion, that you would not tolerate being sidelined again, but for now he would prepare to take on the Red Paladin knowing that you would not end up at the sharp end of a sword while he still breathed.

“Promise me you’ll come back.” You knew what you were asking was a fool’s request, that there was no guarantee when a knight marched to war, but if you were not there to watch his back you needed to know he would return to you.

Thumb ghosting across your cheek, Gawain solemnly shook his head as he tucked your hair behind your ear, the intimate gesture sending your heart fluttering. “Promises have never aged well in times of war.”

“Promise me anyways,” you murmured. 

Unable to make a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep, Gawain brought his lips to yours, the feelings he rarely put into words conveyed through action. “The fates have a plan,” he whispered when he eventually pulled back, gathering you close as conversation from others began to carry down the trail towards you.

Allowing yourself this last pleasure, you buried your head against his neck and lost yourself against him, heart swelling with the feeling of his arms around you. Moments like this were few and far between for you and it was what the fates had in store that made you fear that there might not be anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Not totally canon compliant, but what fun is writing fanfic that is. For whatever reason, writing this was like trying to herd cats in my brain. I’m not sure why I struggled- I absolutely love writing for Gawain. Must just be end of summer brain! If anyone wants to submit them, I’ll entertain other Weeping Monk x Reader or Gawain x Reader prompt ideas! Cross posted to my AO3 if you prefer that format.


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